


An Intervention in Two Parts

by LordVoldymort



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: All canon triggers apply, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kaladin-Centric, M/M, Post-Book 03: Oathbringer, Pre-Slash, Renarin is here but Kaladin/Happiness is the real OTP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26037880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordVoldymort/pseuds/LordVoldymort
Summary: Set during RoW. Tired of seeing him deny his problems, Kaladin's friends decide to stage a disastrous intervention. Renarin does not agree with their methods, and Kaladin learns that talking about your feelings isn't all that bad.
Relationships: Kaladin & Adolin Kholin, Kaladin & Sylphrena (Stormlight Archive), Kaladin/Renarin Kholin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	An Intervention in Two Parts

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This is no longer canon compliant as of RoW chapter 10. I will most likely write a slow-burn Kaladin/Renarin sequel to this, but you can read this as gen if you so wish. Please feel free to leave comments. Hope you like it!

Kaladin Stormblessed was fine. In fact, you could say he'd never been better. There was no reason whatsoever for any sort of distress, and all interested parties should storm off at the nearest given opportunity. Those were the words. The scene was that of Kaladin, pale before the Princeling, straining his face in the hopes that it might produce a smile.  
  
"You'd make a terrible Lightweaver, you know," said Adolin, who just _had_ to stand there looking refreshed, fulfilled, and happily married. The sheer optimism of some people never ceased to amaze him. "I swear I saw a couple of chulls looking more alive than you."  
  
"Thanks for that."

"Maybe you should ask his help to teach you sleeping, since you're not really getting it on your own," added Syl from where she perched on his shoulder. 

In the last week, fifteen separate people had stopped to inquire about his health. Kaladin’s eyes were but a speck within the dark shadows that bordered them, and his newly sagging uniform made him look no better than some of the refugees. With his height, the whole effect was exacerbated to the point where he looked less thin than he did outright ill. Still, getting accosted in the middle of a hallway had not been anywhere in his plans this evening.

"My mother lives here. I don't need you two filling in for her,” said Kaladin.

“Your mother is a lovely woman who is very concerned about you.” Adolin crossed his arms. “You need to sleep.”

Syl nodded vigorously, flying over to Adolin’s side where she proceeded to adopt the exact same pose. “Listen to your friends! It’s the next best thing, seeing as you refuse to listen to me...”

Kaladin’s glare could have scared off a chasmfiend. “You said something to him, didn’t you?”

Adolin glanced at Syl, somewhat startled to see her appear beside him. “She didn’t need to. I didn’t think it was possible for a man to walk with half his body on the floor, yet here you are.”

He sighed and walked closer, placing a reassuring hand on Kaladin’s forearm. “They’re worried about you, Bridgeboy. Why don’t you take the day off? Your family –"

“I’m fine! My family are safe, and everything is storming perfect!" Kaladin took a deep breath and continued in a lower voice. “Look, I promise I’m alright. I appreciate the concern, but all of you need to quit asking.”

 _Mother would make me apologize_. He hadn’t spoken to his family except in passing for a week now. He was overjoyed to have them near him again, but he didn’t want to deal with their questions. Not when he’d have to look Lirin in the face. _I trained your hands for something better._ His father was probably right, thought Kaladin. The nightmares were the price for what he had become.

Being back in Urithiru had only made them worse. It felt like there was nothing to do now but wait while the Voidbringers ravaged countless innocents. He was beginning to understand that there was more beneath the carapace, but not all of them were Leshwi. These days, he’d be lucky to get four hours of sleep a night before the faces came back. The darkness crept behind him - numb, silent, and unshakeable.

“Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” said Adolin.

“Yes,” said Kaladin. The awkward silence that fell over them seemed almost like another presence in the room.

Syl looked at Kaladin with a grim expression before flying off. She’d taken to doing that recently. With a series of grunts, Kaladin shrugged off any further questions and kept walking. He needed to infuse his spheres before they became a liability, then maybe some flying before dinner. Hopefully his friends would be in a good enough mood to leave him in peace. He’d heard a rumor that Drehy was to announce his engagement this night.

 _Such happiness,_ he thought. _Even amidst all this chaos._ Would that he could find it.

*****

Kaladin soared. He’d never felt freer than he had in that moment - one with the wind, more powerful than the Stormfather himself. The skies were his and now the phrase reclaimed its meaning. He laughed and Syl echoed that joy beside him as she leapt and twirled between the clouds. Her giggles rang clear as music for a peaceful day. Hundreds of windspren followed her weightless dance, pulling at Kaladin’s ears and clothes and nose, displaying a strange synchrony, authors of a carefree reverie. He lashed himself higher and higher. He was no creature of the ground. He –

Thunder. The Everstorm approaches.

A scream rang out, bone-chilling and familiar. Then another joined it, followed by more, a veritable orchestra to stifle the laughter preceding it. Kaladin plummeted. He knew what awaited him down there in the chasm. He’d seen it before. The grasping hands, the faces of the ones he’d left behind him: Elhokar, Tien, Maps, the nameless man whose sandals he’d worn for so long, Dunny, Cenn, Dallet… screaming for help he’d never be able to give them; all reminders of his failure.

He tried sucking in Stormlight, but none would come. Syl wasn’t there.

You have killed her, Son of Honor. The Stormfather’s voice came from somewhere above him. You have failed.

The chasm drew nearer like a mouth waiting to engulf him. Jagged spikes for teeth waited to pierce flesh he could not heal. Kaladin knew he belonged there, ever since the time Syl had kept him from it. But like this? Now? What would his mother say? Would his father accept it as the consequence of a war he should’ve died in years ago?

“SYL!” Kaladin screamed, but no one was there to listen. The air burned as it passed into his lungs. “SYL! I’m sorry! Please…”

The chasm neared. Ten heartbeats.

“Syl!”

Nine. The voices joined his in an infernal crescendo. Red lightning flashed. The winds kept blowing the wrong way.

“Anyone! Lirin! Adolin!”

Eight. Somewhere behind him, nine shadows converged. They looked down like unblinking spectators of his imminent demise.

Seven.

Six. Would Oroden remember anything of him when he grew older?

Five.

Four.

Three. Kaladin knew Teft was capable of much more than he thought, if only the storming man would see it.

Two. Would it matter, in the end, whether he lived? Odium’s forces far outmanned them. He stupidly wondered whether Leshwi would miss him as an opponent.

One. Honor was dead, but Kaladin did not want to die.

…

“Kaladin!” A voice. Syl’s voice. “Wake up!”

Kaladin opened his eyes, heart hammering in his chest. He ran a hand through matted curls as he sat up, feeling beads of cool sweat slide down his temples.

On the headboard, an alarmed Syl flitted about. “What happened? I felt something…”

“Bad dream.”

“Kaladin, you should really –“

“We’ve talked about this. You want me to go complaining to the men about a couple of nightmares, after all we’ve been through? What are they even going to do?”

“You can’t keep going on like this.”

“I’ve managed it just fine so far,” Kaladin said, his voice hoarse from sleep and dehydration. He found himself wishing for one of Rock’s cold drinks. “What time is it?”

“Very late or very early, depending on how you look at it.”

“Very helpful.”

Syl gave him a slight smile. “I always am.”

Kaladin got out of bed with a sigh and began peeling damp underclothes from his skin. It was almost like a ritual by now. Soon enough, Syl would restart the round of questioning. He’d lie back down in a futile attempt to sleep. Then morning would dawn, he’d get dressed, and people would shoot him concerned looks at breakfast. He almost laughed when he realized he’d felt more rested as a bridgeman.

Soft stripes of moonlight shone against the stone floor. Kaladin made his way onto the balcony attached to his quarters, letting in a gust of cool wind. He recalled how carefree those few moments had been before the nightmare. It always started like that. Happy. Deceptive.

*****

Syl knew what she needed to do, and it wasn’t easy. _I will protect those who cannot protect themselves,_ she thought, nodding with conviction. She was like a tiny breeze flying past the heads of the marketplace crowds, watching as the humans traded things for other things below her. Ordinarily, she would’ve stopped to observe the humans interact, but today she had no time. She was a woman on a mission.

Some chattering scribes looked back as her flight ruffled their dresses, but Syl was already gone. As she passed yet another stone wall (this place was boring, for being home to the Radiants!), she wistfully imagined how much easier it would be if Kaladin just _listened_ to her for once.

The fool had asked her not to mention it, of course. He’d told her not to argue, not to comment, and not to do about thirty other things that she’d admittedly ignored. But what was she expected to do? Kaladin had taken an oath, and she had sworn it alongside him. It wasn’t her fault his head was as hard as Shardplate.

Kaladin was one of the strongest, bravest humans she had ever known - and a massive dummy. He was _her_ dummy though, and any spren with even a shred of self-respect (which she had _loads_ of, on account of being so marvelous, charming, and amazing) would never allow their human to carry on like one of the Ten Fools. So, she knew what she needed to do, and hoped that Kaladin would forgive her.

She found Rock talking to the Funny One’s cousin. Syl liked Rock; he always acted like a proper gentleman, and he didn’t have that air of permanent gloom like Kaladin’s other friends. He had also saved Kaladin’s life, which was a pretty good reason for thinking favorably of someone, if she had to say so.

They’d just finished making another one of those stews the men loved so much. She passed the food, making a note to observe the cooking process later, and took her full size next to Rock. The Horneater startled briefly, but then gave her a broad smile and a bow. “Mafah’liki! Is an Honor to have you here!”

Syl smiled back at him. Yes, Rock was definitely her favorite. Huio tilted his head in questioning, but then nodded and walked off with the stew when Rock pointed towards a growing line of hungry Windrunners.

“Thank you!” She said, but her face fell into a grimace as soon as the other man had gone.

“Of course, Mafah’liki.” Rock was so respectful that she was tempted to bask in the attention for a bit longer, but she had come here on important business. The things she did for Kaladin…

“Are you well?” he asked.

When Syl started speaking, the words she’d kept inside poured out of her in a rush. “No! Well, not me, but Kaladin. _He’s_ not well, but he won’t listen to me! He won’t even speak to his mother! You’ve all seen him! At this rate he’s not going to swear his Fourth Ideal, and he’s going to collapse and the Voidbringers will get him and –“

Syl paused, noticing the silence in the room.

With a start, she realized she’d unknowingly showed herself to everyone eating dinner in Bridge Four’s barracks. The newest members were gaping at her, with the rest sharing a few solemn nods at her words. She sighed, turning to address all of them. “This just goes to show the state your Captain is in. Even I have no control these days…”

Teft, the grumpy one, stepped forward shaking his head. “The lad’s never been good at asking for help. I assume he doesn’t know you’re here?”

“He’s taking a bath right now. Hopefully he doesn’t fall asleep and drown.”

Rlain snorted. He spoke to Exasperation. “We’ve all been worried, but your being here just confirms it.”

Rock nodded. “This thing, she is of great concern. All you airsick lowlanders never speaking of your problems, and now this…”

“So, I was right then? You know what’s going on with him?” Syl asked.

A low wave of chattering passed over the room. A couple of the men shot expectant glances at Rock, and he was apologetic in his response. “Mafah’liki, we kind of assumed _you_ would know. Our Captain, he is airsick and does not like to speak of himself.”

“Wait, so he hasn’t told you anything?” said Syl.

Drehy spoke up from his seat next to Dru, “I can’t be the only one here who’d rather fight the Assassin in White than bring it up to him, can I?”

Bridge Four all looked down so in sync as to seem scripted. A couple cleared their throats. Syl looked at their bashful faces with a quirked eyebrow. “What? He can’t be that intimidating! Half of you are full Radiants, for storm’s sake!”

“Even The Lopen admits that our captain is a daunting shell to crack open…”

“It’s true,” said Teft. “The most we know of his personal life is from when he got arrested, and half of that was wild speculation.”

“I tried asking about his father two weeks ago and he shot me a glare so dark it could have come from Odium himself,” said Skar.

Lyn nodded fervently. “I literally dated him, and it took me two months to find out he has a baby brother. Kaladin is a wonderful man and our friend, but I don’t think anyone here knows any more than you what could be bothering him.”

“I can…feel it, but not much. I don’t think I was meant to tell you,” she said. Trying to wade through Kaladin’s mind was like walking around with only a sliver of your eyes open. “He’s been having dreams – horrible things, but I couldn’t tell you what, exactly.”

The Nahel bond sometimes allowed spren to directly feel their Radiant’s emotions. It didn’t happen often enough to be a guarantee, but it had been known to occur if the Radiant in question was particularly agitated, or prone to fits of passion. Her bond with Kaladin allowed her to know what he was experiencing on a deeper level than most, but even she had only the vaguest sense of it, like the ripples left behind in water after throwing a pebble.

“Ha!” said Lopen, as if he’d heard a hilarious joke. Hobber jumped at the sudden exclamation, turning around to glare. Lopen did not appear to notice.

“Our Gancho broods so much not even _she_ can know what he’s thinking, and they’re bonded, like, spiritually,” he said fondly.

“That…is not a good thing, I hope you realize,” added Sigzil. He was usually not this late in joining a discussion, which meant he’d probably been either thinking or taking notes the entire time. Probably both.

“Of course not, but you have to hand it to him. He won’t betray us during an interrogation!”

Sigzil rolled his eyes as he scribbled something in his notepad. “What’s the plan, Sylphrena?”

“I’m not sure. Talk to him. Bribe him. Kidnap him and throw him in a room if that’s what it takes; I won’t interfere. He’ll be furious if he finds out I even spoke to all of you.”

Lopen clapped his hands together. “It’s settled, then! We break into his quarters tonight, take him to a remote location, and hold the Gancho until he tells us what’s going on.”

“I do not think this is the best way. Our captain, he is stubborn man. Too much air.”

“Maybe one of us could find a way to get him by himself? Confront him then?” said Skar.

“That cannot work if he won’t even speak to Syl,” a new voice, much softer than the rest, spoke. Prince Renarin. “Maybe we should just –“

“Hmm. What about an intervention?” interrupted Sigzil from his corner in the back. Everyone turned, forgetting Renarin was even in the room.

Teft looked at Sigzil as if he’d suggested chopping off Kaladin’s head. “An intervention? Lad, I’m the addict here, and I’d probably pull a Shardblade on the man who tried to give me an ultimatum.”

“Not everyone’s as sour as you,” said Skar.

“This _is_ Kaladin you’re talking about, though,” said Syl. 

Sigzil let out a long-suffering sigh. “Not all interventions are created equal. In my homeland we schedule them all the time. They’re efficient, thorough, and the paperwork is easy to file. Nobody’s going to threaten Kaladin. You’d be mad to try it.”

“This thing, what does it entail?” said Rock.

“It shouldn’t be too hard. We gather all of Kaladin’s friends and loved ones, and one of these days when he walks into dinner, we prod him to see what is wrong.”

“Do any of you not see how that’s a terrib-“ Renarin said, but nobody seemed to listen as the men’s discussion of the plan got more animated.

“And do you really think this would work?” said Drehy.

“The key of an intervention lies in the evidence. We will have written evidence of everything Kaladin has done lately which has been a cause for concern, so that he cannot deny it. Kaladin is a stubborn man, but he is not a liar. I already started drafting the papers.” Sigzil took a scroll out of his pocket, which Lyn read out to the men as entitled “Kaladin’s Unhealthy Behaviors as of Last Month, In Alphabetical Order.” It was two feet long.

“Um-“ said Renarin.

“When he walks in, The Lopen will be waiting with open arms to support him – and I guess the rest of you ganchos too - and he will be so moved by our efforts that he will feel better. Brilliant plan,” he said, clapping Sigzil on the back. He took a bite of his chouta (where had he even gotten chouta if they were eating stew?), perfectly carefree now that they’d chosen a course of action.

The talking had grown even louder, and prince Renarin frowned without saying anything. Syl watched as he fidgeted with the edge of his seat. Next to him, Leyten looked expectantly at her.

“Well…” she said, focusing on the crowd at large. “It doesn’t hurt to try it, I guess. Who wants to talk to his parents?”

A slight smile rose in Sigzil’s face as he took out another scroll and began to write.

*****

Kaladin Stormblessed was not fine – but not for the reasons you’d think. His men had been acting strangely all day long, and he felt like how he imagined Shallan had felt while being pursued by Cryptics. Were the nightmares not enough? Was he having paranoid delusions now as well?

It had all started with Syl’s strange disappearances. He’d been about to take a bath three days ago when she’d wanted to practice “respecting his privacy” and vanished into the air. After her unexplained return, the weird stares had begun.

The next day at dinner, everyone except Renarin had turned to look at him as he sat down. Leyten and Hobber had then proceeded to flank him on either side without saying anything, shooting looks at each other every time he so much as picked up a fork.

Rock had brought him a second helping of stew unprompted, and Lopen’s various assurances of “Don’t worry, Gancho. Everything’s gonna be OK,” were nothing short of disturbing. 

This morning hadn’t been much better. Adolin had cited tiredness as a bad excuse to cancel their sparring session, and thirty minutes later Shallan was calling for his immediate help, claiming she had discovered a type of spren native to Urithiru. He’d spent the entire day working with her, and they still hadn’t found anything.

At sundown, he finally caved. “Alright, can someone in this tower tell me what in Damnation is going on here?”

Shallan turned to him, her face the picture of equanimity. “I’m not sure what you mean. Urithiru is a busy city – lots of things are going on here.”

Whatever it was, they clearly did not want him knowing about it. Shallan had returned shortly after the airship operation due to undisclosed issues with her mission. It was highly convenient to use her as a distraction for whatever was going on. If he had any hope for an explanation, he could rest assured it would not come from her.

He tried, nevertheless. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Since yesterday, all of you keep looking at me like my axehound died and I don’t know it yet.”

“Have you considered that maybe it’s just the natural consequences of having to live with your face?” said Shallan.

He scowled.

“Thank you for illustrating.”

“I see they didn’t teach you any good jokes while you were gone, then,” said Kaladin.

“Of course they did. I just can’t waste them all on you.”

Kaladin sighed. It had been a long day. “Look, I’m hungry and we haven’t found this spren of yours. You win. I don’t know what weird ploy you’re keeping from me, but I’m going to dinner.”

Before he could walk away, he felt a tugging on his arm. Shallan looked up at him with mock offense. “How rude of you, Stormblessed. Leaving to get food, and you don’t even offer to escort the lady.”

“I’m not your husband.”

“And thank the Almighty for that!” She smiled up at him. Looking upon her face now unsettled him somewhat. She had changed during these months. Still beautiful, yes, but her eyes were like a window you couldn’t look through – darkened and inscrutable, with only a thin, glassy layer between the world and whatever unimaginable secrets hid in the depths beneath.

“Let me show you a shortcut,” she said, gripping Kaladin’s arm tighter.

Ten minutes later, they found Adolin waiting in one of the less frequented hallways. He was leaning against a set of double doors, but stood up straight upon seeing Shallan. She let go of Kaladin’s arm and embraced her husband, giving him a kiss far more passionate than was proper in Alethi society.

Kaladin was in the process of making his subtle escape when Adolin finally disentangled himself from Shallan and walked over to him.

“This was your ‘shortcut’ then? I thought married people didn’t need chaperones,” said Kaladin, rolling his eyes.

“I’m afraid I brought you here for other reasons,” said Shallan.

“Wait, what?”

Adolin draped an arm around Kaladin’s shoulder in an overly friendly manner. “Listen Bridgeboy, you’ve probably been wondering what’s going on today. I’ll be blunt. You’re not going to like it.”

Shallan had moved to his side once again, holding his other arm hostage as Adolin let go to unlock one of the doors. It pulled open with a soft creak.

“I just want you to know that we’re doing this for your own good. We all care about you very much.”

Although they were both gentle, their combined grip was firm. The three of them walked inside, and Adolin closed the door behind them as soon as they stepped into the room. He stood in front of it to prevent anyone going in or out.

Kaladin took a step back in surprise. The entirety of Bridge Four was there, as well as his family, and Syl (who had been missing for half the day). It wasn’t the attendees that shocked him, however, but rather that they all seemed to be waiting for him.

“Son,” said his mother. She attempted to give him an encouraging smile, but sadness blurred it at the edges. His father did not look to him, but Kaladin could imagine the disappointment on his face.

“…Did I forget an important meeting?” asked Kaladin.

“Lad, this is an intervention,” said Teft.

Kaladin said nothing. He blinked once, then did so again when the image before him remained static. Adolin attempted to squeeze his arm reassuringly, but Kaladin shook him off. “I’m sorry – just what in the name of Jezerezeh is going on? Intervention? What for?!”

Sigzil cleared his throat. They’d clearly practiced this for a while. “Listen, Kal, we’re all worried about you. You’re obviously going through something that you refuse to let us help you with, but it stops today.”

“What the – you cannot be serious right now.” He turned to Syl. “I’m assuming you did this?”

She gave him a single nod, looking down at the floor. Kaladin took in a deep breath as he tried to remember the technique his father had taught him to use during surgery. He would need it if he wanted to escape this with minimal damage.

“Look, I don’t know what you people think is going on, but I’m fine. There really isn’t a need for this, I-“

“Syl told us everything. You can’t keep going on like this; avoiding all of us, refusing to speak about what happened. You’ll drive yourself insane soon enough. It’s no way to live. Just look at how I ended up,” said Teft. He further illustrated the point by raising his right hand, which had Firemoss burn scars on the pads of the fingers.

Rock piped up. “You barely eat anymore, and I know the problem is not my stew.”

“We haven’t seen you in a week, Kaladin! And don’t deny that you’ve been avoiding us. I know that face,” said his mother, piercing right through him with her dark eyes. She held a babbling Oroden in her arms, who was blissfully unaware of the whole situation. _How I envy you, brother._

“Every time we spar, it’s like your mind and your body aren’t in the same place,” said Adolin. “I almost speared you yesterday! _Speared_ you!”

“Gancho, I have to admit you’re looking like you need a long nap and a couple of ladies to keep you company.”

“You spend hours on that balcony, looking out into the night, and you refuse to speak a word about it. Why won’t you let me help?” spoke Syl in a low voice. Out of everyone, she sounded the most pained – even surpassing his own mother.

He couldn’t find it in himself to hold a grudge. Syl had clearly gone through considerable effort to arrange this. Even if she was mistaken, it spoke volumes about how much she cared. He probably didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of this; not when their faces reminded him of his failures.

Kaladin thought of the previous night, how he’d stayed out even longer than usual. The truth was he’d been hoping for Leshwi. She did not care for his thoughts nor his moods, only about the fight - and Kaladin had started to enjoy it. It was like a warped game meant just for the two of them. If only he could beat her, then he would prove himself.

Then he’d be worthy.

She never came, of course, and all that remained was the darkness. Each night consumed him, dragging him farther from the sky with every passing second. Not even Nishim’s light could do anything for the contorted, expectant faces at the bottom of the chasm. They called for him even while he desperately tried to escape.

Kaladin gritted his teeth, dispelling those thoughts for the moment. _Strength before weakness._ He couldn’t control what haunted him in dreams, but he wouldn’t let it win. Not after the last one.

He sighed. “These are all valid concerns. I’m sorry I failed all of you. I will…work on it?”

Shallan rolled her eyes. “You do realize you’re here because of your refusal to let _other people_ help with your problems.”

“Really? I thought I was here because you’d decided to trick me. And what’s with Adolin at the door? Are you worried I’ll make a break for it?”

Adolin spoke up. "Kal, I can literally see you scouting this room for a window."

"Wouldn't have made a difference, I assume?" he said, examining the room’s layout. Though it had fallen into disuse due to its isolated position, the room had been some sort of conference hall in the past. It was a broad stone chamber; empty save for some carved stone benches and a series of strange lighting fabrials, which were connected at an angle in the farthest corner. Renarin sat there by himself as he often did. He shot Kaladin a sympathetic smile but made no comment as he glanced over that section of the room. Kaladin had to admit that they'd planned this well. No windows.

His mother stepped forward and Kaladin winced as Oroden held out chubby arms, waiting to be carried. Storm his weakness. It would be much more difficult to escape with the baby. "Kaladin, whatever it is, you don't have to go through this alone."

Memories surged up, unbidden, of when he’d tried to say his Fourth Ideal. _Maybe it’s time for someone to save you,_ Syl had said. He considered the words. How easy would it be to tell them everything? Would they ever understand the irrational numbness that plagued him? He took a long look around the room. Briefly, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but he couldn’t form the words. _No. Not like this._

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Kaladin finally, earning a couple of frustrated looks and even a groan from Lopen.

To his utter surprise, his father spoke. His mother nodded at Lirin. "Son, we’re all here to support you.”

“Are you really, Father? Or is that what she told you to say?” It had slipped out before Kaladin could think about it, and he winced internally as he realized what would follow.

A collective hush fell over the room, the comment earning Kaladin several raised eyebrows. Great. That was a cage of skyeels he hadn’t planned on opening anytime soon.

“If you have any grievances, this is the time to air them,” said Lirin in an even tone. There still existed that familiar passion in his father’s face, behind his look, but not a single note of it bled through to his voice.

Kaladin closed his eyes for a second, trying to regain his composure. He probably looked like one of the Ten Fools just standing there silent, but he needed this. He was afraid of what he might regret otherwise.

“Would it make a difference if I did?” he asked.

“I… have a thought as to what troubles you,” his father said, blank expression shifting into conviction. _That_ was familiar to Kaladin. It was the face of the proud, passionate man who wouldn’t back down from what he believed. _Finally, some honesty_ , he thought.

“Lirin, for storm’s sake-“ said Hesina, but he ignored her, looking directly at Kaladin.

“No, the boy must hear this.”

When Kaladin didn’t respond, Lirin took that as his cue to continue. “When you were small, I told you a good surgeon need not mourn the ones he failed to save. You were never like me, though, for all my efforts: always too attached to the individual to see the greater whole. That’s why I’m sorry it must be like this. No father wants to witness his son’s pain, but I’m not sure my words can make a difference anymore.

“In the past, your guilt was born out of empathy. You couldn’t stand the loss of a life, even if you weren’t the one responsible. Now everything’s changed. I have no doubt your intentions are pure, but you’re the same as the ones you fight, in the end. You bring death and ruin wherever you tread and leave the wreckage for me to fix. That’s why I’m not sure what I say _should_ make a difference. I love you, Kaladin, but I can’t stand to see you like this. The guilt you feel…it is no longer unwarranted. It’s the burden you must bear.”

Something inside Kaladin snapped. It felt like the time he’d been strung up in a highstorm, left completely at the mercy of the winds and their whims. He was not his body, but a passive observer of the power controlling it – and he did not try to fight it. Later, he’d chalk it up to the sleep deprivation, the hunger, or the stress. He’d claim it had all been a misunderstanding, and really he was fine, thank you, no need to worry. But Kaladin was not fine. He hadn’t been for a very long time.

“Go on, then!” screamed Kaladin. “Tell me! How does it feel being a man who can’t stand to look at his own son? How does it feel knowing you wasted your efforts? I’m sorry my hands were not put to the use you wanted, but you’re going to have to face it. _This_ is what I am. I’ve killed more men than you have ever healed, and you wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for that!”

His father’s expression darkened. “I just want to know what happened to my son! You weren’t like this, Kaladin. You’ve become a hard man.”

“You know what happened to your son?! Your son died in Amaram’s army. I saw him die. I held his body for hours after the fact; felt it as it cooled and watched his blood dry on my very own shirt. I’m also sorry it had to be this way. Not a day goes by that I’m not sorry. Not a minute passes when I don’t think of how I failed him; and really, we both know it should’ve been me. Did I ever tell you? I almost jumped off the Honor Chasm, back when I was still a slave. I swear by the Heralds if it weren’t for Syl I would’ve done it. Maybe you’d have preferred it to this,” said Kaladin, making a motion with his free hand to indicate the room. “And I’m sorry to disappoint, though. At least then I could’ve died an honorable man…but life isn’t fair. Tien is dead and I’m still here - every inch the murderer you feared I would become!”

If Kaladin had been exhausted before, now he felt absolutely drained. The world felt like it did after a battle he’d been on the brink of losing, like he’d run out of Stormlight halfway through. The room was quieter than a grave, Kaladin’s words settling over its occupants like kicked-up sand. After several seconds which felt like the longest silence he’d ever had to endure, everyone broke out into simultaneous talking.

Oroden began to cry, startled by the commotion. Kaladin cursed and began rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him. He tried to find an appropriate way to continue the whole situation but came up empty. _So be it then. I’ve already spoken too much,_ he thought.

Tears streamed down his mother’s face. Lirin just stood there, regarding him with that same unreadable expression even as the room’s occupants grew increasingly louder in response.

“Kaladin is _not_ -“

“Sir, I don’t know you but that’s just-“

“How _could_ you say-“

“Don’t worry, Lad –“

The words coming out of his friends’ mouths melded together in his mind until they were an indistinguishable jumble of syllables. It reminded him of when he’d frozen up in Elhokar’s throne room, watching the carnage before him, powerless to stop it. _Lirin was right. I failed them all. Death and destruction wherever I tread._ The voices seemed to almost hurt him in their intensity, but he could not piece them together. His mind screamed at him to escape somehow. Somebody grabbed at him, but he shook them off. _I failed. I failed. I-_ Kaladin just stood there, rocking Oroden until his only focus was the warmth of his brother’s body pressed against his chest.

Suddenly, a very loud voice snapped him out of his reverie. “HARK!” said prince Renarin. “THE SLEEPLESS APPROACHES. THEIR LEADER SHALL COME WITH THE STORM, BEARING ODIUM’S BLIGHT UPON THE WINDS…” The prince’s eyes rolled back into his head as he spoke in gibberish, and he began to shake. On the walls, the fabrials began to give out, plunging the room into darkness just as Renarin’s body thumped against the floor.

*****

“For the last time, I don’t know! It was just a shape…fuzzy…I don’t remember it very well.”

Renarin had a headache. He pressed his fingertips on aching temples, trying to tune out the various conversations going on around him, which attempted to find a meaning in his vision. They’d been questioning him for half an hour now, but were no closer to getting an answer than if they’d just decided to ask the Stormfather himself. Renarin wished they’d all just relent – it was late, and he was tired. Also, he’d made it all up.

The whole affair had lasted less than a minute, but it was more than long enough for all Damnation to break loose. The room, being windowless and rather large, had been engulfed by a darkness so deep that even spherelight made it difficult to see anything. By the time Kaladin had gotten to Renarin, the lights were back - and the prince was sitting up against the wall with plausible deniability about having lost consciousness.

Having a room full of trained Radiants had worked to Renarin’s advantage, as they’d all immediately dropped what they were doing to secure the perimeter. Kaladin had been tasked to go find Dalinar at once, and so his intervention ended as soon as it’d begun. _And thank the Almighty for that._ The captain had taken the clear escape, and now he was probably off brooding somewhere. _At least my conscience is clear._

“Are you certain it was the Sleepless, then?” asked his father, pacing back and forth.

“I _told_ you I can’t be sure…” His restless knee bobbed up and down. Rooms filled with people made him anxious, even if it was a matter of his own family.

“That’s quite enough, Uncle,” said Jasnah, making a signal for the scribes around them to leave the room. “Renarin must be drained from the ordeal.”

“Um, yes. I’d like to…rest, if that’s alright now. It might help me remember better.”

“We’ll continue this talk tomorrow, once you’re more refreshed,” said Dalinar, making his way to the door.

Renarin shot Jasnah a grateful smile, rising from the bench he’d been sitting in and following his father on his way outside.

“Cousin, just a second,” Jasnah said, catching up to him. She grabbed his shirt, pretending as if she had noticed a stain on it. “Next time you decide to make up stories, notify me beforehand. I am a busy woman and cannot afford to spend my time on these trivialities.” 

Renarin tensed, but Jasnah let go and pretended to dust his shoulder. She shot him a knowing look before walking out with perfect poise. _At least she won’t be questioning me about this anymore,_ he thought _._ Renarin couldn’t believe it had worked as well as it did – or rather at all. Contrary to Jasnah’s comment, he had not planned to do anything. He’d just been unable to keep standing there when looking at Kaladin’s face reminded him so much of his own.

Instead of going to his quarters, Renarin turned the opposite way. Returning now risked having to talk to a concerned Adolin, and he would’ve much rather held a bundle of dead Shardblades than do that. He’d always felt awkward in social situations, but a scene as mortifying as tonight’s did not make escaping to the Reshi isles an entirely unappealing idea.

He’d have to settle for finding solitude on the roof, however.

It was late when he got there. Renarin had taken great care to avoid any spots where his crewmates from Bridge Four might be, and the several tangents he’d taken to achieve it added considerable time to his walk. _Journey before destination, I guess._ He finally climbed the last step and emerged onto the top of the tower. Then he made a startled noise kind of like a chicken; someone was already there.

*****

Even after seeing it many times, Kaladin never tired of the view from the top of Urithiru. The stars shone unburdened by clouds that would cover them, giving him a clear view of their clusters dotting the sky. Many of the constellations took the shape of faces, but these didn’t accuse him – they were constant, passing no judgment and giving only light. Such a sight could make a man feel like he owned a tiny piece of the heavens, and up here, Kaladin was closer than most people. Up here, he could almost pretend he’d found peace.

The peace lasted for a good twenty minutes.

“Captain!” said Renarin, looking at him like eye contact physically pained him.

“I see we had the same idea, then.” Kaladin moved over, a subtle invitation. 

Renarin approached, fidgeting with his hands as he leant back against the battlements next to Kaladin. “I didn’t see you come up here,” he said.

“That was rather the point.”

…

They stared into the night. Renarin was unobtrusive company on his best days, but now he shrunk into himself. It was almost as if he were trying to blend into the walls. Kaladin could tell the boy was freezing, but did not suck in any Stormlight lest he stand out in the darkness.

“Thank you, by the way,” said Kaladin. “I didn’t know Truthwatchers _could_ lie...”

“You know?!”

“It was all in the eyes.” He’d seen Renarin have epileptic seizures before, and he’d seen him have visions as well. The eyes had always seemed unfocused, but not so blatantly crazy. It had been good acting, though. Kaladin had to hand it to him. “How’d you do the thing with the lights?”

“The, um, fabrials. One of them is broken, but the connection affects the rest. There’s a piece of loose metal you can pull.”

“Remarkable.”

“I was trying to – just, zone out when I noticed it. Very dramatic of me, to be honest. I’d rather not have done it,” said Renarin, turning to look at him. “I hope it helped.”

“More than you think.”

Renarin nodded and looked down again, finally taking in Stormlight to warm his chilled body. When he exhaled, his breath puffed out in luminescent clouds of mist as it mixed with the cold air.

“You’re not going to ask about it?” Kaladin said, still looking dead ahead.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” responded Renarin.

Kaladin turned to him suddenly, curiosity lining his features. “Why’d you do it?”

“I – Almighty, I hope you don’t take offense to this – you looked very helpless. All of them were just hounding you with questions and it was giving _me_ anxiety just looking at it. I tried to tell them not to do it before, but they didn’t listen to me. A man has a right to secrets. I know they wanted to help, but it doesn’t. I would know.”

“So, you just-“

“Said a series of vaguely threatening words and hoped for the best, yes,” said Renarin. “Jasnah knows I lied, though. I reckon I have hours left to live. If Father finds out, he’ll never let it go.”

Kaladin chuckled, and was surprised to find himself doing so. “Son,” said Kaladin in a gruff imitation of Dalinar, “You have disappointed me. Of my children, you were always the most honest, not like that ruffian Adolin, always getting himself into trouble. In chapter 34 of _The Way of Kings,_ Nohadon says, ‘An honest man is…uh…” He grasped around for the words, but they escaped him. “Sorry, I’m too tired to come up with something profound.”

He probably shouldn’t laugh at Dalinar’s expense. He was a good man, and there were very few of those left, with fewer still that Kaladin respected as highly. Still, Renarin’s laughter surprised Kaladin even more than his own. It felt like seeing an entire new side to the prince, made him more solid as he stood there; no longer just an awkward image for Kaladin to pretend he could categorize.

“You have that face people make when they realize I’m a person,” said Renarin.

“I-“

He laughed again, and it almost made Kaladin want to join in. “Don’t deny it. It took Adolin twenty years, and I don’t even think Father’s got it yet.”

Kaladin sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a strange day for me,”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear that, by the way. It wasn’t – I didn’t really intend to do that,” added Kaladin. The conversation with his father replayed in his mind. _It’s the burden you must bear._

Renarin ceased laughing almost as soon as he’d begun. The light, conversational mood sunk as if it had never existed, and Kaladin almost regretted bringing it up. What could Renarin even tell him about the whole situation? So, he had issues. What did it matter? Kaladin was convinced you couldn’t be a Radiant without at least a couple big ones. People liked to say Lopen wasn’t broken, but normal he certainly was not.

Renarin regarded him like he was considering something. Then, as casually as if he’d been pointing out the weather, he said, “You mustn’t listen to your father. You’re a good man.”

The comment felt to Kaladin like the time Leshwi had stabbed him. He wasn’t egotistical enough to think people lied to him for his own benefit, but he knew they were deceiving themselves. People’s reassurances fell on deaf ears, for these words only had meaning when a man could live up to them, and Kaladin fell short. “What good does that do me when I can’t even do what I swore? I was supposed to protect them, all of them, and I’ve failed.”

Renarin was silent for several seconds, looking like he was about to speak several times before settling on something. Unlike before, he looked Kaladin dead in the eyes. “Fate is a powerful thing, Captain. You think you have failed because it is stronger, but it’s your constant defiance which makes you a success. Men tend to blame themselves for circumstances completely outside their control, and I’ve always found it egotistical how often they believe they could have bent the world’s will. How can you fail at a task you had no stakes in?”

“That just sounds like something men say when they don’t want to hold themselves accountable.”

“Maybe so, but I can see the future. I’d be _actually_ insane if I didn’t believe it, not just give the appearance of it,” said Renarin, regarding Kaladin with a serious expression.

“Your visions can be wrong.”

“They rarely are. Do you know why I’m convinced you’re a good man? An evil man does not question his intentions. It isn’t that you fail to protect people you were supposed to. The way I see it, you attempt the impossible and manage it half the time. Of course, none of what I say will convince you. Stormlight cannot heal your particular brand of sickness.”

Kaladin didn’t know what to say to that. It was probably the most words he’d ever seen Renarin string together, let alone direct at him. The prince had started fidgeting as soon as he was done speaking, but now it seemed more a quirk of his character than any real sign of discomfort.

“When did you get so philosophical?”

“I don’t know. Must be all the reading.”

“Maybe it just runs in the bloodline,” said Kaladin. He could see now how Renarin and Dalinar were related. Even if it wasn’t immediately obvious like with Adolin, there was a quiet strength about the youngest Kholin that almost escaped the eye. This man had fought, trained, and shared his meals alongside Bridge Four for months, but how well did Kaladin really know him? Truthwatchers were notoriously elusive, but it seemed Renarin had more to him than even that.

“My father has become wise in his old age,” said Renarin. His face had a far-off, mournful look, though Kaladin did not pry. He’d heard about Dalinar’s book. “I don’t know how much you’d have liked him back then.”

He thought of Roshone and his efforts to aid the refugees. Of Shallan, and the way she seemed to find joy despite any tragedy. He thought of Elhokar, whose Immortal Words had been taken from him too soon. He thought of Dalinar; the lighteyes who had shown him what it was like to be honorable, the Blackthorn, the war criminal, the father. He saw Renarin standing there, giving midnight speeches like it was his Calling. “Sometimes, I still find it difficult to believe that people change.”

“Difficult, but not impossible. You swore an oath,” said Renarin in that soft voice of his. “Even I did. Who would’ve thought, right?”

 _Journey before destination._ It was an adage Kaladin had heard and himself repeated countless times, but something about Renarin’s earnestness made him truly consider it. A strange choice of words, to be sure, coming from someone who could see the future, but Kaladin could almost understand. In that moment, he did not see the youngest, awkward Kholin standing before him. He did not see a surprisingly perceptive youth. He saw a man who’d been haunted by visions of what everyone expected him to be, and had forged his own path.

Kaladin could be that. Not right now, or tomorrow, or not even the day after that; but someday. He felt the words within him, grasped their meaning and said them over in his mind like they’d always been there. He was not yet ready to speak them, but he would. Of that he was sure. _I bear the burdens I must, Father, but I refuse to make them any heavier._

“You’re as apt to be a Radiant as any of us, Renarin. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Renarin quirked up his lip in an awkward half-smile. “Funny _you_ should say that.”

“Hey!” said Kaladin, scowling. “When did you get so cocky?”

Renarin’s smile got just a little wider.

“I’ll let you have this one, but _only_ because you got me out of that Heralds-forsaken place.”

“I truly am sorry you had to go through that. And that Adolin was involved,” said Renarin, cringing as he thought of it.

“I’m sure they meant well.”

“Without a doubt, but that’s the problem with extroverts. They get caught up in their plans and lose sight of what you really need. My childhood was…interesting, but that’s a conversation for another day.”

Kaladin raised an eyebrow. “And what do I really need, according to you?”

Renarin looked hesitant, the expression of sheer discomfort Kaladin was used to returning to him. Then, he scrunched up his eyes. “Promise you won’t hit me.”

“What –“ but Renarin threw his arms around Kaladin in a firm hug.

Kaladin stiffened, then he turned so red that he could’ve passed for a Singer. With no small amount of trepidation, he raised an arm and wrapped it around Renarin, then did the same with the other one a few seconds later. He held on so tight he wondered whether Renarin could breathe, but heard no complaints. They stood intertwined for what seemed like minutes, with no sound but the rushing of the wind in their ears. When they broke apart, both looked down at the floor.

“You do this often?” said Kaladin, furrowing his brow in bemusement.

This time there was no hesitance in Renarin’s smile. “You could say I’m experienced.”

“It was…nice,” said Kaladin, looking anywhere but Renarin’s face. “Let’s never mention it again.”

“Whatever you say, Captain.” Renarin shrugged his shoulders. He raised a hand in a mock salute, and then waved a farewell before going down the stairs of the tower.

 _That was…something_ , thought Kaladin. For a second, nothing but the warmth of that hug passed through his mind. He still needed to speak with his father and have a stern talk with Bridge Four, but those were problems for another day. Now, he needed sleep. As he walked down the solitary tower steps and deeper into Urithiru’s hallways, Kaladin swore a new ideal, though it was meant just for him:

Kaladin Stormblessed was not fine. But he would be. Tonight, that was enough.


End file.
